Jay‑jay
Sometimes peace is so fragile that all it takes is one idea from my older brother to ruin it completely.
I'd just finished sorting school files when Percy barged into the living room, grinning like he'd just solved world hunger.
"Jay! You have a new project."
I frowned immediately. That tone was dangerous. "What kind of project?"
He slapped an envelope into my hand.
"University partnership work. Leadership extension thing. You need to go check a venue for a field symposium."
"Field Symposium what??!"
"And you picked me for that?"
"I volunteered you," he said proudly. "You're our most responsible delegate from London. You and… someone else."
The way he avoided eye contact made me suspicious.
"Percy, who am I supposed to work with?"
He grinned. "Keifer."
I blinked. "…Watson?"
"Technically it's his island. Perfect for a beach conference spot," Percy said quickly. "Plus, he already offered to host the inspection trip for HVIS."
I opened my mouth, closed it, then glared at him so sharply he almost dropped his car keys.
"You set me up."
He laughed nervously. "I set you free, baby sister. Closure's healthy!"
"You're insane."
"Maybe, but I'm also your brother. You'll thank me later."
I groaned into my hands. "If I don't commit murder first."
Keifer
When the phone call came that she'd be visiting the island, I thought it was some kind of punishment from the universe.
Then the second call—Percy's voice, cheerful and far too smug:
"Don't screw it up again, Keif. It's just a two‑day site visit. Try being human this time."
He hung up before I could curse him out.
I hadn't been to the island in months. My father avoids it now — too many reminders of my mother. For me, it's quiet, simple… lonely.
Maybe that's why Percy chose it.
Now even peace didn't feel safe.
Jay‑jay
The boat ride across the water was calm, deceptively so.
The waves glimmered under sunlight like they knew more than they should.
Keifer met us at the dock — button‑down shirt, no suit, just quiet confidence that bothered me more than it should have.
"Miss Mariano," he greeted.
"Mr Watson," I replied, ice‑cold.
Percy clapped his hands together. "Look at that—so professional already! Now, I'll just… leave you two here. I have errands I have to walk my …um… fish …. Yea fish bye!"
"Percy!" I shouted, but the boat was already pulling away.
"Gago"I whispered but of course he heard
Keifer chuckled softly. "Still swearing , I see."
"Still annoying," I shot back.
He smirked. "Let's focus on the island tour before you drown me."
The place was stunning — stretches of white sand, quiet villas, clear blue water.
I hated that it was beautiful.
Hated that he looked at home here.
He pointed toward the cliffs. "The main hall would be good for conferences. The south cove catches wind for sailing—"
"Save the brochure talk," I interrupted. "Just tell me where to take photos and notes."
He sighed. "You don't have to pretend you hate every word I say."
"You don't have to pretend you understand my hate," I snapped.
That shut him up for a while.
The silence between us wasn't peace—it was history, compressed and waiting to explode.
Keifer
We reached the cliffside by sunset, the light catching in her hair.
She stood there with her camera, wind pulling at her jacket, pretending not to notice me watching her.
"You used to love this kind of view," I said quietly.
"I used to love a lot of things I can't trust now."
"Jay…"
"Don't," she warned, sharper now. "You got your forgiveness speech. You don't get nostalgia too."
But I couldn't stop staring. Ten months, and her voice still did things to me I couldn't name.
She turned finally, eyes hard. "Say what you came to say, Keifer. Then let me work."
"I didn't ask you to forgive me," I said. "I just hoped you'd let me fix something, even small. For once."
Her laughter was quiet but brittle. "Fix the past? Fix me? You're too late for both."
"Maybe," I admitted. "But if it means anything—I never stopped being proud of the girl who changed us. The one I destroyed trying to protect."
She went still. Her camera lowered, eyes suddenly unsure. "You don't get to make me feel sorry for you."
"I'm not asking you to," I said. "It's just… nice to finally tell the truth without losing you again."
For a heartbeat, there was only the sea and its soft roar between us.
Then she said the first kind thing she'd said to me in almost a year.
"You didn't lose me, Keifer. You just lost the chance to know me when I'm not broken."
And that hurt more than any goodbye.
Jay‑jay
That night, the electricity hummed softly through the guest house.
I couldn't sleep. I watched the tide from the veranda until the stars blurred.
Part of me wanted to hate Percy for forcing this trip.
The other part whispered that maybe he just wanted his sister to release what she'd been holding too long.
Somewhere across the island, I imagined Keifer staying awake too—thinking, regretting, maybe finally understanding.
And for the first time, the thought didn't hurt. It just felt… quiet.
Maybe "closure" wasn't a door slamming. Maybe it was a long, gentle tide that came back on its own.